


Heartsmith

by Darcyshire



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Heartsmith - AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darcyshire/pseuds/Darcyshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of tumblr user Miyuli's comic "Hearts for Sale" </p><p>Everyone was born with a heart capable of loving. Everyone. Well, except Carlos Vasquez. He seemed to be an exception. His heart never really worked the way it was supposed to. This wouldn't be a problem, except....He's getting married soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartsmith

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own this story or any of the characters. The idea for this came from Miyuli's comic 'Heart's for Sale.'

The word Dana would use to describe her doctor was beautiful.

Why beautiful, you may ask when you could use stunning, lovely, and gorgeous. Dana used beautiful because that was how Cecil had described him over and over again after he left until Cecil didn't know who he was anymore.

"Alright, everything seems to be in order, Ms. Cardinal." The doctor said, smiling as he flipped through her chart. He looked at her, a frown marring his beautiful face.

"Is there something wrong, Dr. Vasquez?"

He shook his head, looking confused. "No, not at all. You just seem very familiar to me."

Dana lay back on her pillows, nodding. He didn't remember. He didn't remember her or Cecil…Or anything Cecil had done for him, but Dana remembered. Dana always remembered. She remembered him scared and desperate, wandering the streets in need of help.

_"Would you like to buy a heart, sir?'"_ _She asked the beautiful stranger, holding her basket out for his inspection. He seemed to be in need of help._

_"Do you repair broken hearts?"_ _He asked, sadly, yet Dana could see a spark of hope in his eyes._

 _‘No, no. I only sell hearts,"_ _she said softly, his face falling._ _‘But,'_ _she said quickly,_ _"If you go down that road, you will find the heartsmith. He can fix your heart." "Oh! Thank you!_ "

Carlos blinked once more, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I must have been thinking of someone else."

. . .

Everyone was born with a heart capable of loving. Everyone. Well, except Carlos Vasquez. He seemed to be an exception. His heart never really worked the way it was supposed to. It was small and dark and cold to the touch. It was not warm like his mother's, nor did it glow as his father's did. A broken heart was common, but a non-working heart? Unheard of.

Carlos knew he was different the first day of first grade when everyone was pulling out their hearts for show and tell. His classmate's hearts glowed and flickered, warm and beating. His heart lay cold and gray, cracked and broken in his palm. It had always been that way. The teacher tsked, frowning at his heart as the others stared at him.

_‘What happened to your heart?'_

_‘It looks icky.'_

_‘Did someone break it?'_

_‘It looks funny.'_

The whispers followed him all throughout high school, chasing his shirt tails as he skirted the hallways, desperate to get to his next class. The whole town thought he was a freak. _‘The Boy Who Couldn't Love'_ they called him. _‘Heartless'_ they spat at him as he scrambled to his next class, words stinging like acid against his skin. He spent his lunches alone in the library, stuck behind chemistry books in hopes of forgetting the whispers that cut like daggers, or the glares that stung like broken glass. He spent his days getting lost in the periodic table and balancing unsolvable equations. Science was always his passion. He passed his courses with flying colors and doting praise from his teachers, but it still felt wrong.

When he graduated, Carlos did not pursue his love of chemistry, traded in his lab goggles for a white coat and stethoscope instead. He became the top cardiologist in his field, publishing his studies and working day and night to find a way to fix his broken heart. Yet, he found there was nothing at all wrong with his heart anatomically. It did its job, pushing and filtering blood, just as it was supposed to do. Carlos just did not feel the warm swell of love as everybody else did. He did not feel the lingering fondness for his peers or the sweet sweep of love for his fiancé as they held him close in the middle of the night.

Carlos was finally at a dead end in his life with nowhere left to turn. His fiancé was unaware of his Carlos's heart problem, blissfully living in ignorance as Carlos worked tirelessly to fix himself. When he finally realized there was no way he could fix it, he began researching. There were myths and talk of a place he could go. A place that was otherworldly and impossible. A fairytale passed on through generations as a bedtime story, told to weak and sleepy children. The place was called Nightvale and it held horrors and miracles beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Carlos knew it was a fool's tail, scoffed at by all, but some nights when he lie awake listening to his fiancé's soft breathing, he heard a warm, kind voice whisper _"When you need it most, a door will appear. Look for the Heartsmith. He will fix your heart."_

. . .

Night after night images of a strange man danced through his dreams. He was not tall, nor was he short. He was not thin, nor was he fat. He had long shocking white hair that draped itself over his shoulders, and dark skin that gleamed with sweat in the hot, dry sunlight that bathed him. Tattoos swayed across his skin, dark and purple, glowing almost as the man gave off a bright smile. He was, Carlos realized, beautiful.

Carlos was entranced, mouth falling open as he watched the dazzling man work, hands fiddling with a gleaming needle, eyes squinting through thick-rimmed glasses which magnified his lavender colored eyes. Carlos's heart fluttered feebly and fell still once more as he watched the man. What did that mean? He asked himself. Never before had his heart done that. He dreamt on about the man for weeks. One night, Carlos watched him play with his cat. The man could have outshone the sun with the force of his grin as the cat batted at his hands, all in favor of capturing the toy the man held tightly.

Another night, Carlos watched as the man made dinner, swishing his hips and singing along to a tune Carlos could not hear. He watched his mouth, moving, a glass of wine in hand, yet no words reached Carlos's ears.

He dreamt of the mysterious man for weeks, all throughout wedding preparations and cake tastings until there was one week until the day in question and, well, Carlos was panicking. He had been waiting for the door to appear so he may find whoever this man was in hopes of fixing his heart. As the day drew nearer, he felt nothing but despair as he realized that he could not ever love his fiancé the way he deserved to be loved.

He thought that, until one day, on his way to work, a door sprouted from the side of the Pizza place across the street from his practice. The door was old and upon inspection, Carlos found it to be made of oak. The energy around the door was unlike anything he had ever felt before. A strong breeze gushed from it, leaving the smell of sun-baked earth and cacti. He knew this door would take him where he needed to go. This door would lead him to the man and to a fixed heart.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, grunting and straining until it finally gave way, swinging open. He gasped in surprise, blinking as sand assaulted him, stinging his eyes. A tiny town bustling with life greeted him. It was dry, and so very hot it made Carlos tug at his collar, loosening his tie. It was everything the fairytales spoke of and more. The sky was colored amethyst, stars twinkling faintly – which should have been impossible because it was midmorning, but upon checking his watch Carlos discovered it was seven at night here.

As he approached the tiny town, Carlos spotted a glowing cloud hanging over what appeared to be the local school, raining down dead nurse sharks and raccoons. Mysterious lights passed overhead, casting flickers of light upon Carlos as he walked. Where am I? He asked himself, looking around. He looked back the way he came, finding the door gone. He turned back, taking a deep breath. He came to fix his heart, not to sightsee.

Through the bustling crowd, Carlos heard her.

"Would you like to buy a heart?" She was small, eyes shining up at him as she brandished her basket, revealing glowing, pristine hearts. "No, thank you. Do you happen to repair hearts?" He asked.

"No," Dana said slowly. "But, if you follow this road, you'll find the Heartsmith, Cecil. He will fix your heart for you."

. . . .

Carlos arrived at a small building at the end of the road, the words "Heartsmith" glinting at him from where they were stamped, nice and shiny above a pair of old oak doors. Inside, the building smelt of smoke and vanilla, an odd combination but somehow fitting in a way.

"Three hearts in two days," a deep, modulated voice said sadly. "So many people hurt, Koshekh My heart hurts for them."

Carlos followed the sound of the voice, delving deeper into the small shop in search of the owner. Hammers and tools littered the cold workbenches. Shredded paper and chunks of wood covered the floor. Carlos could see a small fire crackling, a lone man's figure illuminated by the fire. Carlos's breath caught in his throat. It was him. The man was bent over a heart, a glowing needle and thread in hand as he sighed softly. The man ran his hand over the glowing stitches he just made.

"She hurt him badly." He murmured, cradling the heart gently in his hand.

"Um," Carlos coughed nervously. "Hello?"

"Oh!" Cecil jumped startled. "A customer!" He rose swiftly, turning to greet Carlos. His eyes widened, expression softening as he met Carlos's eyes. "Hello," he said breathlessly, extending his hand. "I'm Cecil, what can I do for you today?" Carlos swallowed, mouth clicking shut audibly. The man was beautiful – even more beautiful than in his dreams. His snowy white hair was braided down his neck, resting on his shoulder. Flowers could be seen woven throughout his hair, adding splashes of pinks and purple to his hair.

"I – uh- well, I need my heart repaired," Carlos said, stuttering as he gazed into Cecil's lavender eyes. Cecil's eyes saddened as he nodded in understanding. "It's never worked quite right, you see.." Carlos said, trailing off awkwardly. Why was it so difficult to explain his problem to this man?

"I see."

"Do you think you can fix it?"

"Non-working hearts aren't common, but they also aren't unheard of around here. Let me see your heart." Cecil said, holding his hand out for Carlos. Carlos nodded, pulling his heart from his jacket pocket. It was the same dark gray it had always been, chipped and cracked all down the middle and motionless. Cecil gasped when he saw it, cradling it gently as he examined it. "Oh dear," he breathed. "I've never seen a heart quite like this one."

"You can't fix it?" Carlos asked, panic spiking his words.

"I didn't say that," Cecil said evenly, clasping Carlos's broken heart in hand. "It may take a while, but it can be done."

"Oh, well…" Carlos rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. "That may be a problem."

"It shouldn't be, really," Cecil said, smiling now and waving his hands. "Unless you're getting _married_ or something."

"I am," Carlos said slowly. "Getting married. Quite soon, actually." He indicated to the engagement ring on his finger. "Oh," Cecil's voice was suddenly very soft, smile vanishing. "That is a problem, then."

"Yes, it is. As the wedding grows closer, I find my heart still unable to love as it should. I thought if I gave it time, my heart would begin working as it always should have, but I find that I was wrong. Years of waiting wasted." Carlos thought of his fiancé, Kevin. He was all bright smiles and cheery optimism. He loved Carlos with all he had and Carlos only wished he could do the same.

"Well, congratulations!," Cecil said automatically, a pained sort of smile in place now. "I bet they're wonderful."

"He is," Carlos smiled, playing with the ring idly. "If my heart worked right, I believe Kevin would be the love of my life." Even as he said them, the words felt wrong. He always thought them to be true, but the words felt heavy on his tongue.

"Well," Cecil continued almost automatically, setting the heart down gently. "I'll do my best, but I don't know when it will be ready so just drop by _whenever_." He shrugged, pain smile still in place. Carlos smiled, previous thoughts forgotten as hope flared in his chest for the first time in a long time.

"Oh, thank you, Cecil! I'll see you soon!" and with that, he exited quickly, dashing for the door. He left Cecil gazing at the tiny, broken heart he had left behind.

"Cecil," he murmured to himself. "Put aside your feelings and fix this man's heart."

. . .

Carlos returned the next day, a small pastry box in hand. He was sweating, his thick curly hair sticking to his forehead as he entered the shop. He was not at all accustom to this dry, harsh heat, having grown up in upstate New York all his life.

"Hello!" Cecil greeted, jumping up in surprise. Worry quickly replaced the surprised and he wrung his hands nervously. "I'm sorry, Carlos, but your heart isn't ready yet."

"That's not why I came today," Carlos chuckled, setting the box down. "I came to visit you."Oh. No one had ever come to visit Cecil before. His heart fluttered, blush rising to his cheeks as he smiled warmly.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise. Please, have a seat." Carlos sat at Cecil's workbench, eyes roving the building.

"Not many people in the business?" Carlos asked, eyeing the dusty, broken forms of old unrepairable hearts.

"There used to be," Cecil said, giving a small nostalgic sigh. There was a time when this building had been bright and bustling with life and workers. Workers who wanted to fix people, help them love again. "Then people started buying hearts instead." One by one workers left, unable to support themselves on the few people who came calling for repairs. "It just doesn't work the same," Cecil went on, peering at Carlos's heart through his boxy, thick rimmed glasses. "You don't feel the same swell of love or dash of fondness the way you would if it had been your own heart." Carlos listened to Cecil rant on, letting his warm, low voice wash over him. He was lost in thought, thinking of hearts and their reparation and the studies he would publish after Cecil was finished when Cecil gave a small "Oh dear."

That didn't sound too good. "What?" Carlos asked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Is something wrong?" Cecil waited a moment before speaking, setting Carlos's heart down gently.

"I didn't think it was this bad." He admitted. "Many of the parts needed to love in your heart are missing."

"Is it fixable?"

"Yes," Cecil said quickly. "I can fix your heart." He promised then stopped, thinking over his words. "No, I _**will**_ fix your heart."

. . .

After Carlos left that evening, Cecil mulled over the possibilities once more. He had not seen a heart this bad since Earl Harlan, who seemed to be broken of all love forever. But, Cecil fixed his heart, just as he will fix Carlos's because that is what he does. That is his job no matter what. Even if he fell in love with Carlos the moment he set foot in his shop or even if the moment his heart was fixed Carlos would never return again, going off to live a happy life his husband. Cecil sighed, eyes finding the now empty pastry box on his workbench. It had once held a cake Carlos brought over for Cecil. They both shared it, happily chattering away about current events in Nightvale and Carlos's wedding preparations.

It was the best Cecil had felt in a long time and he didn't want that feeling to go away. Ever. But he knew he was being selfish. Carlos belonged to another and soon he would happy with his husband and never give Cecil another thought again. He had made his decision. He pulled his own heart out, gazing at it. It was chipped in some places, riddled with holes from others where he had taken pieces of himself to fix others, but he believed it would do. There was enough left to fix Carlos's broken heart.

In the dim light of dawn, Cecil set to work

. . . .

"Oh, Cecil!" Carlos gasped, cradling his now glowing heart in his hands. It glowed a soft pink, the thread glowing in all the places Cecil had stitched it. When Carlos had arrived that morning Cecil wasted no time in giving him his heart, waiting with baited breath for Carlos's reaction. Carlos marveled at it, stroking the smooth, neat stitches that now glowed happily beneath his fingers. The heart beat gently, and it was warm to touch against his skin. It was the most beautiful thing Carlos had ever seen.

"Thank you so much." Carlos breathed, tucking his heart away. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you!" He launched himself at Cecil, wrapping his arms around the Heartsmith in a tight hug of gratitude and thanks. Cecil held him close, cheek pressing into the other man's neck, savoring the smell of lavender wafting off him.

Carlos pulled back slowly, gazing at Cecil. He didn't know what came over him, but at that moment, it felt right to tip forward, mouths meeting gently. Cecil gasped, clutching Carlos tighter as their mouths danced, sliding against each other in perfect harmony. It all felt so right, so magnificent. Carlos parted his lips, allowing Cecil to lick gently into his mouth, tongues sliding together.Cecil's fingers threaded in Carlos's hair, pulling him closer as Carlos's hands found Cecil's waist.

Cecil moaned softly, pulling Carlos from the haze of pleasure as guilt began to choke him. He pulled back with a startled gasp, horror striking him when he realized what he had just done. He was getting married tomorrow! He had a fiancé and a home and a life! Why did he feel like throwing it all away for this man? A man he had just met a week before?

"I'm sorry!" Carlos choked, backing away slowly. "I have to go. I can't do this." He fled before Cecil could say another word, catching a glimpse of his hurt and broken expression.

. .. ..

Dana found him after that, rushing to where he crouched, doubled over clutching his chest. Tears streaked his cheeks, falling onto the dusty floor. "Cecil, why do you keep giving parts of yourself away? Especially when no one gives anything back?"

"Why don't you answer me this," Cecil replied, voice thick. "Why do you sell hearts when you yourself don't have one?"

"None of them fit me." Dana had never had a heart ever. She had been born without one, something that, unlike a non-working heart, had been unheard of. Yet, Cecil's problem was quite the opposite: He had too much heart. He loved strongly and unconditionally, giving parts of himself to all that needed his help. Now, his heart was tiny, hole-ridden and covered with stitches. Chunks were taken away, cracks and chips showing where he had had HIS heart broken. It pulsed gently in his hand, glowing a faint pink.

"Will this heart fit you, Dana?"

. . .

The wedding was a grand affair. His almost-parent-in-laws could be seen mingling with his mother and father, who were beaming. It was beautiful hall they were marrying in. On the back of the seats were cream colored banners each holding a bouquet of pink lilies. They reminded Carlos of Cecil's hair and the flowers that could be seen dotting his braid in bright colorful splashes. Candles lined the walkway, glowing faintly, and he was reminded of the stars that dotted Nightvale's nightsky. The scent of Vanilla hung in the air and Carlos felt a pang of sorrow. He brushed that away quickly, not allowing the memories of sweet lips and soft, white hair to torment him.

Upon returning home he had been ecstatic over his new heart, but it did not tamp down the regret he felt over leaving Cecil or the vast emptiness he felt whenever he spent time with Kevin. He felt cold and uncomfortable around his fiance, often cutting their nights short and turning in early.

He first thought his heart had not been working right, but swiftly dismissed the idea as he had never felt love so overwhelming and pure before. It wasn't until he was searching the crowd once more for shocking white hair and soft lavender eyes that he realized why he felt nothing for his fiancé.

He was in love with Cecil

. . . .

The door presented itself to Carlos immediately, welcoming him back to Nightvale. It was dark and his watch had switched to Nightvale time reading nine-thirty at night. He quickly made his way down the street, coming to a stop outside Cecil's shop. The letters no longer gleamed in the lamplight, but were dull and flat. He pushed the door open with a creak, door slamming shut behind him. Everything was the same, yet vastly different. Hammers and tools still littered the benches, old hearts still lay unfixed. The fire was crackling in the fireplace as always, but it seemed different. Empty. Cold. Cecil's warmth was no longer there, leaving the shop lifeless and cold.

“Cecil?”

“He’s gone.” Carlos spun around, eyes landing on Dana.

“What do you mean?”

“Cecil was selfless in his heart repairs,” Dana said, stroking her friend’s workbench fondly. “Each time a broken heart found him, he gave a little bit of his own heart to fix it. He fixed your heart and gave almost all he had.”

“No,” Carlos breathed, legs buckling under him. He fell to the table for support, processing what she had just said in silent disbelief. “Why would he do that? Why would he do that for me?”

“He loved you.”

.   .    .

“I’m sorry, you just looked familiar to me.” Carlos gave a small shake of his head, curls bouncing slightly.

Dana remembered him. She remembered the look of horror and grief that crossed his face when Dana told him Cecil loved him. She remembered the sound of his vomit hitting the workbench. She remembered telling him it was time for him to return to his world where he belonged and to leave Cecil behind because no matter what happened, he wasn’t coming back.

_“The person you knew him as is gone, Carlos. Do not go looking for him, you will not like what you find.”_

If you met Cecil now, he would be totally unrecognizable. No warm smiles or gentle hugs. No laughter or shouts of joy. He was cold, harsh and cruel; a complete shell of the man before him. 

He was the very definition of heartless.

 “You’re very lucky to have found a donor.” Carlos went on to say, reading through her chart again.

“Yes, well, the Heartsmith is very kind.” Dana said warmly, hugging her chest. She could feel his heart pulsing in her, filling her with life she had never felt before now.

“Who?” Carlos asked.

“A very dear friend of mine,” Dana went on to say, smiling gently. “It’s okay, people usually forget him, even those he’s helped.” She nodded to Carlos, voice even. “But he’ll never forget you and a small part of you will never forget him.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @ Official-Enjolras.tumblr.com


End file.
